The company walked ever forward, rallied on by Aragorn's seeming lack of fear, even as strange whispers surrounded them in the deafening silence. Daeril could not understand any words, if they were actual words, and wondered if she really heard anything or if fear had her imagining things. She focused on breathing slowly, in and out, trying to quell the overwhelming feeling of dread. Rocky's stiffening next to her did not help. Eventually the narrow path, framed by stone walls on either side, opened up into an open, dark space. Aragorn stopped, his torch alighting a flicker of gold off to the side of the path. He branched off to investigate it, Elladan coming ahead with the other torch. They all could see in the torch-light what he looked upon. It was a skeleton, dressed in beautiful, glittering armor, and a broken sword at his side. His hand still reached out towards a stone door on the wall that he had fallen by, as if clawing to be let out. However he died, he had been terrifyed until his last breath and fought to get out. Even the mightiest, most well-armed warrior could die in fear.
Aragorn, through with examining the scene, stood with a sigh. "Hither shall the flowers of simbelmynë come never unto world's end. Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock. Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!"
He turned around, shouting. Daeril at first thought it was at them, however nobody had warranted a scolding; he looked behind them, into the darkness. So there was something there, unseen.
'For that is not my errand! Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"
It grew ever more silent, if that were even possible. It felt as though the darkness itself was smothering them as they stood there. A cold gust of wind came through, extinguishing the torches, and leaving them in complete blackness. Aragorn bid them go on, and they followed the sounds of those in front to keep along the path. Rocky stepped on Daeril's foot, but she dared not cry out in pain lest one of the ghosts, if there even really were any, were to hear her. She continued on, leaning into the warmth of her horse, now with a slight limp. It was hours that they walked through the dark, and some wondered whether they would ever find the other side. In due time they found the light of open sky, dim as it was, and the path came out into a road between two high cliff faces. Coming out of the mountain, they mounted up once more, the horses unsettled but not taking off on anyone.
They rode in file, the path far too narrow to be side by side. Daeril rode behind Halbarad now, Rocky's neck curved all the way in to his chest and prancing as they rode, his ears swiveled to the rear. All it would take was one of their horses to bolt and there would be a disaster. Finally as evening fell, they came out of the ravine and into a valley, where the small stream they had rode next to turned into a river, flowing out into larger bodies of water. Below them was a town, and lights flickered in the windows of the homes there.
"Friends, forget your weariness!" Aragorn called for all behind to hear. "Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way!"
They spurred on their horses, riding hard into the fields of the vale. Rocky was more than relieved to be moving again, rearing up before springing into a full gallop. They came to a bridge, bringing them to a road that went down into the town below. As they rode past houses and farms, people ran into their houses, crying out that the King of the Dead had come. Bells rang out, and all feared them as they rode through. Alas they came to the Stone of Erech, a great black orb of rock protruding from the hill. The company halted, and Aragorn dismounted by the stone, blowing a loud note on a horn passed to him by Elrohir. The sounds of horns responded, as if from a great distance, and then there was silence once more. A cold wind came out of the mountains, and Daeril brought her cloak closer around herself to keep out the unnatural chill. She could see nobody save the dark shadowy figures of her kinsmen, but there was a heavy presence surrounding them.
"Oathbreakers, why have ye come?" Aragorn shouted to the night.
"To fulfil our oath and have peace." No living man could have uttered that voice, and it came from seemingly nowhere.
"The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me." Aragorn announced. "And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."
With a motion from Aragorn, Halbarad finally unfurled the standard that he had been carrying since they had departed from Rivendell. The black fabric billowed out, but nobody could see what was on it in the pitch blackness. There came no more response from the unseen host, but their presence was still felt as they made camp.
Daeril could not sleep, not knowing that something was out there. Most of the Rangers sat in groups, with their backs to eachother, some sleeping upright and sporadically. She was still awake at dawn when Aragorn rose, rallying them once more to ride. And again they rode with great haste, running through the day into the night, passing through many towns in Gondor, sending citizens fleeing as they passed. The horses were exhausted, and the men too, but ever Aragorn's will kept them going. Daeril had never known such weariness, and felt it down to her very bones. If she were to be taken out by archers, it would have been a welcome relief, but ride on she must. They did not stop that day, riding on through the dark night, into a dawnless day.
On the third day of the endless ride, under never-ending darkness, they came upon a battle waging between men of Gondor and men of the East. The evil men took off at the sight of the host, enraptured by fear, and the Gondorians would have rejoiced had they not been so afraid as well. Many fled, but the leader of the people came forward to tryst with Aragorn. He was called Angbor, Lord of Lamedon, and Aragorn bade him gather those who would ride to the Heir of Isildur's aid. They rested the horses a bit after crossing the river Gilrain, but Aragorn still wished to keep moving.
"Lo! already Minas Tirith is assailed," He said. "I fear that it will fall ere we come to its aid."
Again they rode through the night, through the fields of Lebennin, coming to the Great River and the port of Pelargir. The army of Easterners and Haradrim they had pursued turned at the docks, laughing at their small force. Some of the small boats in the river were on fire or trying to sail away as fast as possible, but still there remained fifty large ships, the fleet of the corsairs of Umbar.
"Now come! By the Black Stone I call you!" Aragorn shouted to the host before them. The horns sounded in the distance, once again, and the shadowy army that had followed behind them emerged, rushing towards the enemy. The sound of many voices and swords being drawn echoed, both there and not there at the same time. Daeril did not know whether it was real, or another hallucination brought on by lack of sleep, but the enemies laughter soon turned to horror. Aragorn bid the company charge, and they rode forward into the thick of the enemy host as they began to flee. They were driven into the water by fear, abandoning their ships. The enemy host vanquished, they dismounted their horses at the shore. At Aragorn's command, each of the Dunedain was sent to a ship to comfort the slaves, men of Gondor taken by the corsairs.
Daeril had never been on so large a boat, and stumbled up the ramp, swaying as the vessel moved in the river. She went to the first man she saw, untying his bonds. He weakly stood, helping to untie the others. Soon they were all freed, but beaten down from captivity and shaken from the force of the Dead charging through the fleet. A man, not quite elderly but with plenty of gray in his beard, clung to her, kissing her cheek.
"You are the most beautiful sight I have seen in a long time," He said. "Who commands your force, my lady?"
"I ride with Lord Aragorn son of Arathorn," She announced to the twenty freed men on board. "Heir to Isildur. You are free men, once more, but we have need of strength of arms. Any who can still fight, he bids come with us."
She left the ship, returning to the horses on the docks, followed by the freed men. Aragorn went aboard the largest ship, and there blew deafening horns aboard it to command the attention of the army of the dead.
"Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur!" Aragorn cried out to the dead. "Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at rest!"
The dead vanished, leaving behind no trace of them ever having been there. The otherworldly chill had gone with them, leaving the night humid and warm, even in such proximity to the water. Aragorn gave the rangers leave to finally rest, as the host from Lamedon had arrived on horseback along with men from Lebennin and Ethir. The men of Gondor prepared the ships, being most of them knew there way on a vessel, and through the day the ships were manned and readied. Daeril was dead to the world until the morning, when Daenir roused her. If she had dreams, she did not remember, but even the waking world felt just as unreal.
The horses of the Grey Company were loaded onto the largest ship, which Aragorn had taken as his own command. They were too tired to protest, and the rangers managed to get them below deck in stalls without incident. The ship had been designed to carry cavalry, but the corsairs had brought no horses with them. The ships completely manned by crews of Gondorian free men and soldiers, Aragorn's fleet set forth up the river, bound for Minas Tirith.
The going was slow, as there was no wind to speak of, and the ships were going against the flow of the river. The freed men, those strong enough to carry on, manned the oars. All wondered whether they would reach Minas Tirith in time, or if they would be coming up to ruin or a tide turned against them. As night wore on, they finally saw a red glow coming from the horizon, where Minas Tirith awaited them.
Daeril found herself hanging over the side of the boat, retching even after the last of the food and water she'd consumed left her stomach. She had been overconfident, laughing at the handful of other rangers who had succumbed to the rocking motions towards the beginning of the journey by water, until the rolling started. Someone came up behind her, a comforting hand on her back. She lifted her head up just enough to see it was her brother, smirking.
"Still laughing, sister?" Daenir jested.
"I am dying. Leave me to my misery." She gasped, trying to breathe the sick feelings away.
Daenir held up a water skin, which Daeril turned her nose up at. The last thing she wanted to do was drink, eat, or do anything other than give in to the sweet release of death.
"Drink it, it helps."
She reluctantly took it and sipped a bit of the cool water. Once she knew it may stay down, she drank more. The rangers mostly sat together on the smooth deck of the ship, probably scrubbed to its nearly perfect state by the very slaves they had freed. They waited, and watched, and hoped they would reach the city before it fell. At midnight the Gondorian's that sailed with them, experienced seafarers, noted a wind coming from behind, and with the aid of everyone on board each vessel, the great black sails were unfurled. Heaving on the heavy ropes, the sails threatening to take off if they didn't hold fast, Daeril forgot about her ailments. With the sails at full, the ships began to move at a steady and fast clip.
Within a couple of hours, they could see the fires in Minas Tirith, and soon the docks at the Quays of Harlond. As the sun came up, they could see the glint of light off of the armor and swords of thousands of horsemen, stopped near the Quays, waiting in earnest. Halbarad stood at the prow, unleashing the great standard that he carried. The wind spread the black fabric, and he held it aloft as they pulled into the Quays. In the light of day they could finally see that it bore a white tree, topped with seven glittering stars and a crown- the sigil of Elendil.
A/N: Thank you, I hope you all enjoyed. There will be more coming soon, I hope! I will be going on leave to work at a camp with my horse Ned, so will be in the woods a couple weeks- would like to get a couple more chapters up before then! Please review and let me know how I'm doing, I would very much appreciate it!